


Where Do You Go

by deathbymalik



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, I just really wanted a whipped Zayn tbh, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 11:48:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1687196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbymalik/pseuds/deathbymalik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn can never say no to Harry and he kind of hates himself for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Do You Go

Zayn can never say no to Harry and he kind of hates himself for it. Because Zayn has never been that person to just give into people and be there when they want him to and he never thought he would be so when Zayn drops everything because Harry texts him  _'Meet?'_  he hates himself. It was never supposed to be like this; he was never supposed to fall for him. It was supposed to be this 'no strings, give no fucks' kind of thing and they had even promised each other no pillow talk, no nonsense, they're just gonna fuck, but Zayn can't keep a promise for shit and now look at him. It's his favorite kind of night where he's fucking around with friends that he hasn't seen in months, a whiskey in his hand and a hookah going and the music blaring throughout the house, and he's putting down his drink and shrugging on his jacket because  _'I'm in your driveway, come out'_  just flashed across his screen. And he pays no mind to his friends that ask him where the fuck he's going. He just waves them away and says  _'cigarette break'_  and he's out the door. 

And he hates himself for it. His hands can't stop shaking and his throat has run dry because the anticipation of touching Harry just gets to him like that. It's something he craves like the way he needs his cigarettes. He needs Harry to burn under him and to catch his breath in his lungs and God, he needs to feel all of him until they've both run out of each other. And he shouldn't want this so badly, but he does. He hardly thinks of anything else but he would never say a word because that might risk losing him altogether and Zayn would rather have this than nothing at all.

Addiction, they call that addiction. 

"Took you long enough," is the first thing Harry says as Zayn climbs into the backseat of his car. He drove the Range Rover today and he guesses he's just come back from Holmes Chapel because there's an overnight bag on the passenger seat and he looks  _good_. Harry always looks good but after nights back home, somehow he manages to look better. Maybe it's the rest he gets, Zayn doesn't know but his skin is glowing and his eyes are bright, and his hair is down today and that's how Zayn likes it. Free to pull on and to brush out of his eyes and to stroke through when Harry presses to his chest after he's come.

Harry likes when Zayn does that, too. Because whenever he does it he stays with him longer, doesn't get up and dressed as fast as he normally does when he's finished. He'll stay there in between his legs and lay on his chest, humming quietly as Zayn runs his fingers through his hair and Zayn treasures the moments they have like that. When they're not fucking and just being and he wishes that wasn't his favorite part of all this, but it is. And he wants it tonight. He wants it right now. 

"Sorry,' he mumbles, slamming the car door shut. Harry is on his phone, leaning back with his legs spread while he texts and Zayn just sits there and waits for him to look at him and when he does, Zayn's heart skips a beat because he's missed this. He's missed him.

"You alright?" Zayn asks and Harry just nods.

"You?" he returns and Zayn nods, too. He's alright  _now_ , anyway. 

"Good, that's good." He turns back to his phone and his thumbs start to click away and Zayn wonders who he's talking to. He wants to ask and tell him that they're not important right now and  _'Just look at me'_  but he reminds himself just like he always has to:  _no pillow talk, no nonsense, they're just gonna fuck._

So he says instead, "Haven't seen you in awhile..."

"I know."

"Been busy?" Zayn knows he hasn't. He's been frolicking around London with some A-List model who he swears he isn't fucking but Zayn thinks he probably is. He always is anyway, he just makes them all believe that he isn't. 

"Somewhat."

He takes a breath and drops his phone into his pocket, turning to Zayn who is leaning just as he is now. "I know you didn't come out here to chat, though," Harry says, and his eyes are dark now as he takes a heavy breath.

"Don't mind it." And he doesn't. He really doesn't.

"Well, I do. I didn't drive all the way here to chat, either." He pats his lap, "Come 'ere."

And because he can't say no, Zayn does. He climbs to straddle over Harry's lap, knees just beside his hips, and rests his hands on the back of the seat. Harry doesn't waste time sliding his hands under Zayn's shirt and Zayn shivers because Harry touches him so delicately, his fingers just ghosting over his skin and it's enough for Zayn. He can feel him, even if it's just that much, and it's like he has everything. At least, that's what he thinks until Harry catches his lips with his and then it's like a shock to the heart because his chest heaves toward him and Harry is pinned down to the seat as Zayn weighs his body against him. And he makes an  _'oomph_ ' sound in Zayn's mouth as he presses hard.

Zayn likes it like this. Being on top of Harry and having him writhe underneath him. He likes pushing his tongue into Harry's mouth as he presses his hips into his, making him feel how hard he is for him. Because the moment Harry feels  _that,_ is the moment he becomes his. 

"Zayn," Harry groans through Zayn's tongue swiping across his bottom lip, "Zayn, I don't have much time tonight."

"Shut up," Zayn hisses and takes his hand to hold around the boy's neck, pressing his lips harder to Harry's and biting on them to further his point. 

"No Zayn, seriously I-" Zayn interrupts him with a kiss, "I need to be somewhere."

He always has to be somewhere. There's never a time where Harry  _doesn't_  have to get up and leave him after they're done. Zayn sighs then and sits up, stopping everything altogether because then what the fuck did he come for if he's just going to leave so soon.  

"Then what do you want?" he asks, and when Harry just cradles his face in his hands, stroking two fingers under his chin, Zayn gets it. And like the addict he is, he can't say no. Even when he can practically taste the word on his tongue, he wants the bitterness of Harry more than he wants the sweet pleasure of denying him. "Fine," Zayn gives in and he sits back from Harry, watching a smile creep onto his face as he undoes his trousers, the sound of metal unbuckling like music to Zayn's ears.

If Harry wants Zayn to suck his cock then fine, Zayn will suck his cock. He'll climb back on top of Harry and give him one more kiss to last him for the rest of the night because that's the last kiss he'll get. And he'll cradle his cheek in his hands as he kisses his neck, sliding over Harry's beautiful lips with his fingers and opening his mouth so Harry can catch his thumb in between his teeth. He  _will_  do all those things, and he does because there's nothing Zayn won't do for Harry. Whatever Harry asks for, Zayn will give it to him. 

And he hates himself for it.

Zayn makes his way to his cock just as smoothly as Harry whips it out for him. From underneath this jeans, he takes it out and begins to stroke himself before eyeing Zayn and losing a breath. "Please babe," he begs, "You know how much I love your mouth." And Zayn feels himself twitch in his jeans because he loves when Harry talks to him like that. When he makes him feel like he's the only one that can make Harry feel like this -so desperate and hot and Zayn licks his lips before grabbing the base of his length and wrapping his lips around the tip of Harry's wet head. 

It doesn't take much for Harry. It never does. 

Precome is already spilling out of him and Zayn tastes it and groans as he takes all of Harry in his mouth. It's difficult because the boy is huge but that's what Zayn loves about Harry -he's ever the fucking challenge. The only thing easy about Harry Styles is getting him to come.

Zayn leaves his hands on his thighs and decides not to bother with them because Harry likes when he only uses his mouth. He likes to see his thick red lips stretch around him and he knows he does because when he tries to add a hand, Harry narrows his eyes into his and that's his subtle way of saying  _'I don't want that there.'_ So Zayn never uses his hands anymore, just his mouth and when Harry repeats ' _yes, fuck yes'_  over and over Zayn knows this is all Harry needs. And Zayn won't give him more than that because the prick doesn't deserve it. But he knows if he asked, he would. Zayn fucking would.

It's then that Harry's phone vibrates in his pocket, and Harry takes a hand out of Zayn's hair to grab it and Zayn comes off. "Fuck babe, what you come off for?" Harry groans and looks to Zayn like he's fucking mental.

"You got a mess-"

"Doesn't matter, I'm close-" And Harry positions his cock for Zayn to come back to him and he raises his brow as if to say  _'let's go, what the fuck are you waiting for?_ ' And Zayn wants to shout at him and tell him to fuck off, but he doesn't. He doesn't because it's Harry. And without another look, he's sucking on the boy's dick and Harry is whimpering again and softly thrusting his hips up into his mouth because he  _is_  close. He only does that when he's close. 

But Harry's not paying attention to Zayn anymore. He's staring at his phone and his fingers are typing a thousand words a minute and fuck, he even chuckles but it's interrupted by a moan as Zayn gags on him and not a few seconds later does he release himself into Zayn's mouth. His phone tossed to the side as he grabs the sides of Zayn's head as he finishes with a few last thrusts. "Take all of it, Zayn, fuck," he pants and Zayn does. He swallows his come and he fucking loves it and wishes he didn't. 

He wishes he fucking didn't. 

"Fuck, you're incredible," Harry breathes, swiping the pad of his thumb along Zayn's wet lips, and with a smirk, he brings it back up to his own mouth to taste himself. And as if Zayn wasn't already hard enough, that just did the trick. Now he's so hard that it aches and he's about to tell Harry that he needs to fuck him. Fuck him so hard that he won't remember his name -only Zayn's- until Harry grabs his vibrating phone.

"Shit," he says, "Zayn I gotta go, I'm sorry."

"Are you fuck-"

Harry sits up and cups his face in his hands and looks at him with these eyes that Zayn thinks look like the stars in the night sky, and how can Zayn be mad at the stars when they're the ones that always seem to guide him home?

"I'm sorry, I promise," he kisses Zayn's forehead, "I promise I'll make it up to you, alright?"

Zayn huffs. "You better."

Harry smiles and kisses his forehead again. "I'll call, okay?" And Zayn nods and in no time is he standing in his driveway as he watches Harry speed away only to God knows where, but Zayn surely doesn't give a fuck. Except that he does because wherever Harry is that Zayn isn't, he wonders what they have that he doesn't. What are they offering that Zayn never will? He doesn't know because there isn't an answer. 

Zayn would give the world to Harry. The whole fucking world on a silver platter as he kneels at his feet with the promise of forever.

And Zayn hates himself for it. 

**Author's Note:**

> any comments or questions or anything, you can find me at solomalik.tumblr.com, thanks for reading !


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